Till Death Do Us Part
by Autumnstar17
Summary: John very nearly marries a woman named Lilith. Unfortunately, tragedy strikes and any chance of a Happily Ever After seems altogether impossible.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock stepped into the church's sanctuary with the bouquet pressed tightly to his abdomen. He felt overwhelmed by breathless excitement and anticipation. And, as he saw John—standing there in a dashing tux at the other end of the aisle, staring back at him with pure adoration—a sort of serene joy. Sherlock walked past most of their friends and family—everyone the two of them cared about really, plus a few others he didn't recognize—and took his place opposite his best friend. Cameras flashed and someone started talking in a droning monotone, the words of which Sherlock could barely make out.

He and John's eyes met, their gazes level with each other's. "You look amazing," John whispered, eyes shining. Sherlock could only blush and study the carpet. A tall suited man behind John coughed, and one of the guests seated in the pews began crying happily.

More cameras flashed. The click of a shutter became a crack of lightning outside the window; the entire church was lit with a blinding white light, which quickly faded to an inky darkness that covered every last detail until Sherlock could see nothing. All noise from the guests and priest stopped. The only sounds were his own breathing and the slow rumble of thunder approaching. As it rolled through the sanctuary with a low grumble, shaking the floor and threatening to knock everything off the walls, emergency lights dimly came to life overhead and bathed the scene in an eerie green glow.

The guests and the priest were still—they were dead. They stared straight ahead with lax, blank expressions. Sherlock was at peace. He only had eyes for John.

"I do," John whispered. His voice was unbearably loud in the quiet. He slipped a matching pair of golden rings on both of their fingers, then leaned forward.

Sherlock leaned forward, too. Their lips touched and John let out a warm, wet sigh against his mouth. It wasn't over. Sherlock stepped close, _desire_ clawing its way up his chest and choking off his air. He wanted _more_. John whimpered.

Sherlock leaned back. John's eyes were glazed over and his face twisted with sensation. His heartbeat was fluttering in his neck like that of a scared rabbit's. Sherlock's arm twitched, and warmth spilled over his hand. He looked down, and—

And part of John's intestines fell out of the hole in his belly. With every one of Sherlock's breaths, the knife in his hand sawed delicately of its own accord against the other man's skin. Blood spilled over both of them, sprayed in all directions, stained the front of the white dress he was wearing.

The man in a suit behind John shifted, and Sherlock's head snapped up. It was _him_. The other Sherlock stared back with a cold, unfamiliar look. "Obvious," he sighed, and looked away, disinterested. Clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Did nothing.

John sobbed and pressed his hands weakly against the hole in his stomach, trying to shove his insides back in. "I love you," he moaned. "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

Sherlock caught sight of his own reflection in a stained glass window that depicted what he assumed was some Important Historical Figure betraying another. What he saw was Lilith's face, terrified and distorted, with endless black eyes and gaunt, pinched features. Her lips were slack and looked fake.

"I love you too," Sherlock said, and pressed a kiss to the corner of John's mouth. The knife twisted and a single pair of hands from the back of the pews began clapping.

-x-

Sherlock woke up screaming and covered in sweat. He ran out of breath, the yell trailed off with a rasp, and bile rose up to replace it. The detective had to throw himself off the bed in order to get his face to the trash can before he vomited, and ended up badly bruising his right knee and almost knocking his bedside table over.

"Bark bark!" Sherlock turned his head minutely and locked eyes with a distressed Gladstone who was peeking over the edge of the mattress. "Bark bark baRK BARK bark BArk bark BARK!"

"Oh, hush," Sherlock groaned. He stood on wobbly legs and, instead of going around the bed, just walked right over it, nearly getting himself killed when he got a foot caught in a blanket. He had planned on opening his bedroom door to let Gladstone out, but blood rushed to his head and left him dizzy and nauseated and veering for the toilet instead. Sherlock didn't notice the dog sneaking into the hallway, dry heaving as he was; but the bullpup came back minutes later with a wide-eyed John in his pyjamas.

"Sherlock, you okay?" John asked as he gripped the door frame.

Sherlock made a gross gargly noise in reply.

John disappeared and came back with a glass of water. He rubbed Sherlock's shoulder sympathetically until the detective felt stable enough to sit up. "Alright?"

Sherlock gulped down the water and shook his head. "No."

"What's wrong? Feeling sick?" John pressed a hand to his friend's forehead, tone going stern with worry. "You _better_ not die on me now, tomorrow's my big day and you _promised_ you'd be my best man."

Sherlock shook his head again. "Technically it's today, since it's two thirty in the morning."

"Sherlock." John grabbed the man's wrist. "You're shaking and look like you're about to pass out. And I heard you, ah, yelling. Tell me what happened?"

The detective chewed on his lip and avoided eye contact for a long while. "I… I had a nightmare."

"A nightmare?"

"Yes."

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. "Just a nightmare."

"John—"

"You got me up at two thirty in the morning the night before my wedding because you had a _nightmare_."

Sherlock suddenly felt very tired. "I didn't _ask_ you to come help me…"

"No, you just woke up everyone on Baker Street with all your screaming and trying to break a hole in the walls."

"Sorry. I'll try to keep it down next time." The bathroom floor was starting to look rather warm and inviting.

John sighed his _I don't know why I put up with you_ sigh. "Alright, alright. Just… tell me what it was about so we can sleep."

Sherlock stared at John for quite a long time. "Lilith turned bad at the wedding and… hurt you. And I w-couldn't stop her."

John's eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of his head. "Right. Okay. I'm going back to bed."

"John, I don't think you should get married tomorrow."

The doctor was already leaving the room. "Good_night_, Sherlock."

"John, wait—"

The next thing Sherlock knew, he found himself pressed against the bathroom door with John's hands fisted in his T-shirt. "Look," John hissed. "I don't know why you're so hell-bent on ruining what little happiness I can get these days, but you need to _stop_. You aren't going to break us up no matter how hard you try. I know it may be a foreign concept to you, but Lilith and I _love_ each other. Stop trying to turn this into a game of you-or-her." John shoved Sherlock away and stalked off down the hall.

"I'm not trying to turn this into me-or-her," Sherlock shouted after him. "Not like it's even a question—it's obvious _she's_ winning anyway!"

John's door slammed closed upstairs. Sherlock took a whimpering Gladstone back to bed with him, though only one of them managed to get any sleep.

-x-

Sherlock stayed in bed staring at the ceiling and the wall and his blankets, trying not to think of what would happen today, for as long as he could manage. He only got up when he was on the verge of being late, and then he got eight minutes of avoiding his own eyes in the mirror and attempting to tame his hair into something respectable until he burst into tears.

"Oh, _hell_," he choked. Sherlock only gave himself a few moments of quiet sobbing before he forced a blank composure onto his face and continued getting ready. _Shouldn't be so selfish_, he thought tiredly as he brushed his teeth. He let Gladstone out to piss and then started throwing on the suit he'd picked out to wear—a regular black one, crisp white shirt underneath, and a dark blue tie to match the theme of the wedding. He was just adjusting his collar in the mirror over the fireplace when John clomped down the stairs into the living room.

"How do I look?" he asked, and spun around on one heel with his arms outstretched. He had chosen a black tuxedo with a grey waistcoat, and wore a white shirt and bowtie that matched the white rose in his breast pocket. The doctor had also neatly parted his hair, combed it back, and gelled it into place. Sherlock's stomach did something fluttery.

"You look amazing," he said honestly. He had no idea if he was smiling or not; his face felt numb.

"Great!" John grinned and bounded toward the door. "You look good too. Are you ready? Let's go, Mrs. Hudson is waiting!"

Their landlady was wearing a modest black and purple dress with floral patterns and heels, and had Gladstone (with a bowtie clipped onto his collar) under one arm—John had _insisted_ upon the dog being at the wedding._Probably so it'll be harder for me to bring him home with me_, Sherlock thought miserably. They still hadn't come to an agreement over who the pup would be staying with after John moved out.

The four of them squished into the back of a cab and rode to the church together, John nervously going over last minute preparations with Mrs. Hudson the entire trip. Sherlock kept himself busy playing games on his phone and staring out the window in the least depressing way he could manage. Once they arrived, Mrs. Hudson kissed them both on the cheek, slipped into the sanctuary, and took up residence beside Molly, who was in a very flattering blue silk dress and was more than happy to babysit the bullpup. John watched her go, peeking at the crowd through a crack in the door.

"Oh, God," he whispered. "Sherlock, talk me out of this."

"Um—"

"I was joking, don't do that." John sat back and took deep, calming breaths. Sherlock watched his chest rise. He wanted to touch the doctor's brow and press his nose against the man's neck, but he couldn't. It wasn't his place. They had proven time and time again that Sherlock's only purpose in John's life was as a good friend and colleague. Nothing more. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock's eyes snapped up. "Hm?"

"Hey, listen." John put a hesitant hand on Sherlock's bicep. "What I said last night. That was… Well, let's just say I shouldn't have said it. I'm sorry. I don't want us resenting each other on the best day of my life, y'know?"

Sherlock wanted to cry. He shook his head and patted the back of John's hand. "No, I was out of line. _I'm_ sorry."

John's smile was wide and blinding with joy. "Best mates, yeah? Come on, let's get this show on the road."

Sherlock swallowed around the lump in his throat, rummaged up a smile in return, and nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear John,_

_I can't marry you. I wish I could tell you why in person, but it's too late for that now. By the time you read this I will already be halfway across the Atlantic Ocean. Please don't come looking for me._

_xoxo,_

_Lilith_

_P.S. Do send Sherlock my regards. The man cares for you more than he lets on._

-x-

John let out a wail and crumbled to his knees, still grasping the letter tightly in the palm of his hand. His mind was whirling. Just this morning he could've sworn he was the happiest he had ever been before.

How could things have turned around so fast?

He remembered proposing to Lilith on the water during their rafting trip. He'd told her how beautiful she was in that moment, and how she was the one thing that got him up in the morning. The light of his life. That he never wanted to spend another minute away from her side. Lilith had been unable to form the word in her state, but eyes wet and an obnoxious grin upon her face she nodded vigorously. John slid the diamond ring onto her finger and was immediately pulled in for a kiss. Seconds later Marley had dove from his raft onto theirs, knocking the happy couple into the water in his own excitement.

Yes, John remembered every blissful minute of it. He remembered picking out a date with Lilith to book the church on - in a single frantic week's time, as that was the only opening, but Lilith insisted that they take it nonetheless. He remembered being shoved into a shady van and then forced to go cake tasting in Mycroft's company. Sending out cutesy little invitations, shopping for his tux…

And then the day finally arrived. John recalled standing at the front of the church, shifting his weight from foot to foot in anticipation and unable to contain his excitement. Even his best man, who had previously been so upset at the notion of John settling down and starting a family of his own, couldn't help but smile a little at this.

Everyone was there. Sherlock, Molly, Lestrade, Harry, Sherly and Joan… All of them anxiously awaiting the future Mrs. Watson, who was bound to come strolling down the aisle any moment.

But the moment passed and the crowd was still waiting. Minutes ticked by. In time minutes turned into hours and, once it was eventually halfway to dinnertime, people began to stop waiting, giving up hope of Lilith ever showing up. After all, the orchestra had packed up their things ages ago.

"It's probably just nerves," Mrs. Hudson had promised the crestfallen groom. "She'll turn up. Just you wait and see."

When she didn't, John retreated to the furthest aisle in the hall to mope some more. Eventually Sherlock found himself standing behind John. He placed a loving hand on the man's shoulder. John looked up, only just realizing that they had long since been the only two remaining, save a single janitor who was just beginning his rounds. Sherlock shook his head slowly and, letting out an exasperated sigh, John allowed himself to be walked out of the building.

-x-

Although it had been Lilith who wrote the breakup letter, they weren't her words. In all truth, Lilith did love John, and she had wanted to marry him more than anything. Wanted to spent the rest of her life at his side. But it seemed no matter how much you want something, there will always be those lying in wait to swoop in and snatch that very thing away from you. She just wished she had been aware of this threat before it was too late to fight it.

At least this way things didn't have to end for John, too. Lilith had to cling to the hope that he would have an easier time moving on if he thought she no longer cared for him. Easier than if he were to find her dead, in any case.

Lilith was still wearing her wedding dress as she signed the letter. The girl hesitated before adding a quick P.S. below her name. A tear dripped from the bottom of her chin, landing on the paper. Lilith stood up, wiping her eye with a wrist as she set the page down on John's bed.

"Is that all?" she croaked, turning around to find herself at eye level with the barrel of a handgun. The man facing her nodded his head towards the door and Lilith walked out of the room slowly, the stranger keeping within a single step of her the entire time.

It wasn't until Lilith had completely exited the complex that any force was used against her. Her kidnapper, who Lilith had yet learn was none other than a Mr. Sebastian Moran, picked up his pace and grabbed hold of Lilith's brown hair. She yelped in surprise before being dragged to the edge of the sidewalk and thrown into the backseat of a taxi cab. Another stranger waited patiently in the passenger seat as Moran took the wheel. Lilith eyed the car door, knowing that it would be locked but still tempted to try her luck anyhow.

"I thought I told you to do something about the dress?" the second man, Jim Moriarty, demanded. "It'll only draw attention."

Moran started the cab coolly. "There was nothing I could do about it back at the flat. As I recall, you were the one who instructed me to leave as little evidence of my being there as possible, which included not touching anything. If it bothers you that much I can stop at a clothing shop in another couple of blocks."

They did, much to Lilith's surprise. Moran returned just moments later, slamming his door shut and throwing a simple black dress into the back seat at Lilith. "Put it on," Moriarty instructed after she had spent a good couple of seconds staring at the thing in confusion.

"Now?" Lilith asked, fear in her voice.

As if to answer her question, Moran turned around in his seat and pointed the gun at Lilith again. Needless to say, she didn't argue a second time. Her hands shaking, Lilith tried to ignore the two men's eyes on her as she removed the poofy white dress. They, on the other hand, could have cared less about what she looked like underneath it. Once she had finished, the cab resumed its route.

-x-

Too afraid to think about what would become of her, Lilith tried her hardest to concentrate on John (which, let's be perfectly honest, wasn't any more comforting). She wondered if her fiancé were still at the church, waiting on a girl who would never show, or if he had already gone home to learn that she had, indeed, knowingly left him at the altar. Regardless of which, both scenarios ended in John hurting because of her.

"Are you even listening to me?" Moriarty snapped, crouching down to meet Lilith's blank stare. Stubbornly, Lilith turned away, but Moriarty seemed quick as lightning and grabbed the bottom of her jaw, forcing her head forward again. "Listen here, you ungrateful bitch: I figured I'd allow you just a few extra minutes to understand why I can't let you be with John, and you don't even have the courtesy to pay attention? You're running out of time, princess," Moriarty sneered. "If you have something to say for yourself, I suggest you do so now."

Lilith did have something to say. But rather than use her words, she instead got her point across by firing a wad of spit as far up Moriarty's suit sleeve as she could manage. The consulting criminal pulled away, at first in disgust, and then in more of a rage smacked Lilith across the face with the back of his hand. A trickle of blood ran down the girl's lip.

"I can see why the doctor fancies you," Moriarty said, wiping his arm against a less than amused Moran. "You've a lot of guts, but behind that stern expression I can see that you're a coward. You pretend to be clever, but we both know you can't really compete. I know all about people like you. Mere… distractions. All you ever do is get in the way."

Already growing bored of Lilith's company, Moriarty made to leave the room. "Don't be too long," he instructed Moran before disappearing around a corner. Although he wasn't looking anymore, Moran acknowledged the order with a curt nod and reached for his weapon.

"How much does he pay you?"

Moran hesitated. "Pardon?" Now, as a general rule, the man didn't strike up conversations with the people he was about to assassinate. The fact that he responded at all came as a bit of a surprise, even to him.

"Your boss," Lilith elaborated. "You're gangsters, right? I imagine it must pay quite well, if you're still able to sleep at night."

"It covers rent," he answered slowly.

Lilith nodded distractedly. "Do you have kids? No offense or anything, but you don't exactly come off as a family type of guy…"

Moran lowered his weapon, frowning. He shook his head. "Do you? Y'know… have kids?"

With a half-smile, Lilith looked her captor in the eye for the first time that evening. "No. It seems kind of silly, taking recent events into account, but… Well, I thought maybe now…" She sighed, wiping a stray tear with the back of her hand.

"You really do love him, don't you?"

Lilith nodded slowly, sniffling. She had already cried more than enough for one day, but while the waterworks had slowed, they never did stop.

"…I'm sorry."

And then Moran did something even he didn't anticipate. Perhaps it was through pity, or perhaps he found the girl too pure a flame to put out. But whatever the reason, Moran set his weapon down and pulled a thick knife from his belt instead. Lilith squeezed her eyes shut, expecting the worst. Instead she felt the wire that had been binding her hands behind her fall off. She opened her eyes in surprise. Moran stood before her still, now holding out a hand. She took it distrustfully and he helped the bride to her feet.

"I can't let you go back to the wedding," Moran explained.

"But they're all waiting for me there!"

"And you can't see any of them ever again, you hear? This is a once in a lifetime offer. I can get you as far as the U.S. without arising any suspicion. Change your name, your face… whatever it takes. But should you ever return to London, ever try to contact Doctor Watson or any of your friends and family here, I'll know. And see that a bullet is put through your head. Do you understand?"

Quivering slightly where she stood, Lilith took a deep breath and nodded again. As promised, she was whisked onto a plane to a foreign country that very night and Lilith was never seen or heard from in London ever again.


End file.
